


Everyone's Coming To Get You

by Starkzilla



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-17
Updated: 2016-03-30
Packaged: 2018-04-26 18:18:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5015158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starkzilla/pseuds/Starkzilla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drabble about my OC ex-Jaeger pilot. It updates... whenever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place between when he was discharged from/left his position as a pilot and when he was hired by a person of questionable reputation. Contains vaguely graphic violence and/or abusive flashbacks.

Danior rubbed his forehead as he looked over the worn shelves of the bookcase the PPVA (Pan Pacific Veterans Association) had "graciously" donated to help furnish his "fancy" studio apartment.

His fingers brushed against a couple unlit candles perched on the top, one with a pumpkin pie decal and the other sporting the image of a blooming lilac on the front. He hesitated, stared at them, then shook his head and crouched down to blankly study the books awaiting him.

Books. Yes. Books were a nice distraction from... things. Events. Memories that weren't his own but still were in his head **WHY DIDN'T THEY STOP WHY COULDN'T HE SLEEP ANYMO** \--

There was a knock at the door. Danior immediately flattened and froze on the floor like a rabbit. The post office and delivery companies knew, by now, to just leave things even if a signature was required. No one ever came to visit. So when the second round of knocks happened he went into overdrive.

 _Run. RUN. RUN!_ Every nerve and muscle in his body flared to life as they responded to the most primal of responses: get the fuck out before the bad things catch you! He pinched himself a few times until his senses returned.

Weapons first, he mentally reminded himself. Flee second. After some quiet rummaging under the bookcase he felt the smooth familiar touch of the pearl handled hilt, housing an old school barber's shaving blade, and tugged it free. Once it was in his hands he brought it close, giving it a comforting kiss.


	2. Chapter 2

The knocking didn't stop. None of the noises ever stopped, be they real or just echos of things he wished would just go away, but the knocking was louder, more grounded in reality, as was the voice coming from behind the door.

"Mr. Gagnon, I know you're in there. Answer the damn door before I have to open it for you."

The voice was firm, overly friendly, but still commanding. The sing-song unspoken taunt to it made him clench his teeth out of frustration while he clung to the wall and slunk over to the door.

As soon as he went to open it the multiple locks gave way and there was a storm of wooden shards violating his sanctuary as the door swung open. Amid the mayhem stood a tall blonde man, wearing the ugliest black suit he'd ever seen.

The man turned in Danior's direction while lighting up a cigar. "I hate people who don't answer on the first request," he said, casual as someone talking about the weather, "But I'll let it slide this time."

Sweat coated the handle of the razor in his hand as Danior rose up, all five feet, five inches of him standing defiant in the face of this intruder. He couldn't help but nervously bare his teeth even as he pushed his glasses back up into place.

"Get the fuck out," he growled before he could stop himself. "Get out before I--"

The bigger man just laughed. "Before you what? Slash me with that tiny thing? Call the cops? Continue to rot away in this..." He looked around the small apartment before puffing out a ring of smoke. "You were a damn hero. You deserve better Mr. Gagnon. Here you're just wasting your talents. Counting down the days until you die, am I right?"

Danior's left hand twitched, his thumb sliding along the top of the razor to make sure the blade was angled right. "You don't know a fucking thing. I've heard rumors about you. Like some kind of ghoul that haunts the PPDC, hungering for flesh and bone."

The man stared down at him, his tinted lenses blocking his eyes from Danior's view. There was a moment of hostility felt in the air and then... laughter. "You're just as stubborn as they say, Gagnon! Good to know. Now let's cut to the damn chase. Would you rather rot away in this cage or would you rather have a job again?"

Danior hesitated. "So you want me to be an animal on a leash rather than one in a zoo, right?" He started to smile as he lunged forward, blade out, slicing through the taller man's sleeve and catching the flesh underneath. He could see the window nearby; if the momentum carried him just a few more feet he'd be--

"NOT. So. Fast." Despite the inflicted wound the large man was faster than he appeared and he'd managed to grab the collar of the smaller fellow before he could leap to safety. Danior's limbs flailed in the air like a cartoon character right before something akin to a brick made of skin and bone slammed into his face. He heard rather than felt his nose snap as he gurgled out a noise of pain.

"We could've done this the easy way, Mr. Gagnon, but you chose otherwise. It's a good thing you'll be useful." He brushed his now bloodied knuckles off on a nearby painting as he dragged the dazed man off by his shirt collar. "Get used to it."


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning for strong language and hints at child abuse. Stuff's gonna get darker on and off from here on out so be warned. I also threw in a reference to one of my favorite songs. Also, if the French is wrong, I apologize. I'm relying on Google and mean no offense.

_"Hiding **again**? Why can't you be like your sister? She's always doing something useful!"_

The voice clawed at his ears and dug its way into his head as he shivered and tried to hide under his blanket. His heroes had cloaks and, by proxy, the blanket was his cloak. The dinosaur patterned material was no match for the hand that tore it away as the voice continued to screech in his direction.

_"Get up! What the fuck is wrong with you? Are you listening to me?!"_

The small six year old child felt himself being lifted up by the back of his neck and all he could do was laugh. It started out as a nervous giggle colored by hiccups until it blossomed into a full blown hysterical fit that left him gasping like a trout without a heart.

The taller man hesitated as Danior regained consciousness on the seat across from him. He was expecting panic, not the crazed laughter that came from the bruised and bloodied fellow across from him. 

Maybe recruiting this guy was a mistake. He slid a hand down to his side just in reach of his gun in case things took a turn for the worse.

On the other side of the limo's back area Danior hiccup/laughed a few more times and sat up, directly staring at the man across from him. Chau wasn't the sort of man to look away but there was something in that gaze that unsettled him.

Danior finally blinked, a full half minute later, rubbing at his left eye as the broken iris demanded lubrication.

"...Comme à la maison," he groggily muttered once the car pulled up in front of a hotel. "Back to another cage."


End file.
